My verses
Som©
Golden blob just crossed the
wooden bridge,
blowing with it
all the autumn leaves
like old acquaintances,…
Nowadays the melancholic evenings
doesn’t allow me relaxing,
some mildew odor
from the discarded ring
tells me the story of lost love
that crossed every crossing
every far off horizon
that heart has undergone
alone
embracing every torpidity
of the soul….
Walking with them numerous
amnesiac raptors…
Wish could sleep
eternally…
with that mildew odor
pari passu your
renouncing amour..
where my verses will appear
at the end of horizon…
those beautiful maiden
with the garland of wild flowers
adorning their neck
would sing in praise of Euterpe
the muse of lyric
giver of delight
my verses would be in the air
like the fragrance of Lavender.
Image Credit Rightful owner and Pinterest
WilliWash 